


how shall I call you back?

by depugnare



Series: Black Sails Tumblr Drabbles [1]
Category: Black Sails
Genre: M/M, post 3x03, someone requested this be put on here so!, sometime after the shark date, tumblr drabble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-19
Updated: 2018-07-19
Packaged: 2019-06-13 05:13:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15357036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/depugnare/pseuds/depugnare
Summary: “Silver,” Flint retorts, tongue flicking out to wet his lips. “You’re welcome to use my cabin for anything you need.”“Why?” Silver manages to choke out, chapped lips catching on the rough calluses of Flint’s fingers. He can’t help but want to feel the sting again.“Call it a favor,” Flint says, drawing away.





	how shall I call you back?

**Author's Note:**

> this was requested to be put on tumblr so! :) If you see any typos that's just how it is with tumblr drabbles.

Silver undresses around the men on the ship because it’s close quarters and they’re all men and who the fuck cares after weeks at sea. He’s never been shy about his body anyways.

This changes after they take his leg.

He finds a secluded place to change because he hates how the men look at his leg. The pity and the admiration. The fascination. The disgust.

So he hides. In the galley. In the storeroom. In the gunpowder stores.Changes quickly and quietly. Wipes himself down with a wet cloth when he’s afforded the luxury of time.

One night he’s clad only in his undershirt, sponging his legs in the storage room, when the door flings open and there stands the captain. Flint doesn’t notice him at first, going right to the bottles of rum, but then he turns and looks at Silver.

“Uh,” Silver says, frozen where he sits on a barrel of gunpowder, water dripping onto his leg.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Flint barks. “What if that water leaks into the barrel and damages the gunpowder?!”

Silver looks down, he hadn’t thought about that. Flint comes over to loom over Silver, crossing his arms as he looks down at him.

“What are you doing in here in the first place?”

He thinks about lying, for a moment, but he’s done enough of that lately.

“The men,” he starts. “They stare at me, when I change.”

Flint nods, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers. Then he turns.

“Get dressed. You can use my cabin.”

“What?”

“I won’t repeat myself,” Flint says, looking over his shoulder. “You only have to knock.”

Silver stays silent when Flint leaves, staring after him. The man confuses Silver. Sometimes he’s so predictable that when he strikes, Silver can follow his every mood. Sometimes he’s pure chaos, a storm that strikes and leaves Silver breathless in surprise.

This is a surprise that leaves him reeling and reassured at the same time. Then he looks down and realizes he’s dripped water all over the barrel. 

“Goddammit,” he curses. 

He may have to start lying again after all.

 

\- -

 

Silver is covered in shark blood and smells of brine and sweat and he’s standing in front of the captain’s door, hand hovering over the worn wood.

Before he can knock, the door opens and Flint appears before him.

“Yes?”

Silver looks down at himself and then looks up at Flint.

“You said I could use your cabin…”

Flint nods and steps aside, beckoning Silver in with a jerk of his chin. Silver goes in, aware that the crew are watching with hungry eyes.

Flint walks over to his desk and sits down, thumbing through charts. He doesn’t glance up at Silver, who decides to go over to the corner by one of the windows to change.

“Use the bed,” Flint says without looking up. “If you fall over and land on your ass I’m not picking you up.”

“Thanks,” Silver retorts, making a face at Flint’s back. He sits down on the bed, which swings gently with his weight, and he can’t help but sigh at the feel of a real mattress. The crew has rigged up a winder hammock for him, but it’s still a hassle to get in and out of. 

“What? Mattress too hard for you?” Flint says over at his desk, plotting out a course as he talks.  
  
“No,” Silver says, leaning down to yank his boot off. “It’s nice. You’d be surprised how hard it is to get out of a hammock with one leg.”  
  
There’s a moment of silence and then Flint turns.

“They didn’t set up the wider hammock for you? I told them-”

“They did,” Silver says, holding up his hand to stop him. “It’s still difficult for me to get out of.”

Flint makes a face, and then he comes over and Silver thinks he must be making a habit out of looming. Then again, he’s always loomed over Silver, physically and mentally.

“I…” Flint starts, and then he sighs. “I haven’t asked how you are for some time. How are you?”

“Hungry,” Silver says with a bitter smile. “Thirsty. And filthy so if you wouldn’t mind-”

He’d been about to say  _turn around_  but Flint suddenly leans down and starts pulling at Silver’s shirt. Silver is frozen for a moment, until Flint’s insistent tugging makes him lift his arms.

“You don’t have to. I’m not an invalid,” Silver hisses. Flint just looks at him.

“You’re tired, you smell, and you’re in pain. You’re listing to the side like you do when your shoulder is bothering you. This will go faster, so shut up.”

Silver does and he sits still while Flint tugs his shirt off, and then takes a cloth out of his pocket and starts wiping sweat and dirt and blood off of his face. Silver makes a face and pushes at him.

“I’m not a child.”

“I  _know_ ,” Flint bites out. “But you’re filthy and you’re sitting on my bed. Despite being a pirate, I don’t like rolling around in dirt.”

“Could have fooled me,” Silver says, reaching up to poke Flint’s side. He doesn’t know what made him do it, but Flint just quirks his mouth in that odd smile he makes when he’s amused but doesn’t want to be.

“I’m busy, out at sea,” Flint says, and then crouches down. Silver holds out a hand to stop him.

“I can undo my own trousers, thank you very much.”

Flint rocks back on his heels, watching Silver. Something heady and tense settles between them, but Silver ignores it a he usually does. Doesn’t look at Flint as he undoes his trousers, even less when he concedes that he’s exhausted and he could use help getting them off.

He looks over at Flint, who nods, before leaning back on the bed. Flint takes the hem of his trousers and pulls, careful to mind his stump, skin around the wound still new and tender. Silver’s legs are relatively clean compared to the rest of him, but Flint still runs a cloth over  the calf and ankle of his right leg, wiping grime from his skin.

Silver studies him as he does, and then very carefully reaches out to run a finger across Flint’s cheekbone. Flint briefly leans into the touch, before wiping a line of dirt and sand from Silver’s waist, careful to keep from drifting towards his hips.

“You don’t have to do this,” Silver says softly. So softly that Flint can hardly hear him.

Flint nods at that, and then reaches over and takes the cleaner pants from the pile of clothes next to silver, and holds them out. Guides Silver’s foot through the leg of one side, and neatly ties the other beneath his stump. Takes the soft clean shirt, smelling of the pine shelves in the tiny closet Silver was afforded as Quartermaster, and gently lowers it over Silver’s head, laughing quietly when the collar gets stuck on his ears.

“They’re good for listening,” Silver says after Flint gets the shirt over his head, taking the shirt from Flint’s hands so he can put his arms through the sleeve. “So you’d do well not to laugh.”

“Oh?” Flint asks, before slowly, oh so slowly, reaching out to tuck a stray curl behind Silver’s ear. “Would I?”

Silver has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from leaning into his touch.

“You would,” Silver whispers. “I don’t suffer disrespect.”

“I know,” Flint says, and there’s a smile to his voice. His face is softer than it’s been in weeks. “I don’t laugh out of disrespect.”

“I know,” Silver says, smiling back. “But I’ll get you back for it just the same.”

“There you are,” Flint says, cupping Silver’s chin and tilting his head up to look at him. “I was wondering where you’d gone, if your pain had chased the last of your light away.”

Silver is speechless, watching Flint study him with hollow eyes, dull green hidden in a skeletal face. They seem a bit brighter than before.

“Flint-”

Flint’s hand travels up, fingertips dancing over Silver’s beard, his chin, his lips, and Silver is held in silent ecstasy at the touch.

“Silver,” Flint retorts, tongue flicking out to wet his lips. “You’re welcome to use my cabin for anything you need.”

“Why?” Silver manages to choke out, chapped lips catching on the rough calluses of Flint’s fingers. He can’t help but want to feel the sting again.

“Call it a favor,” Flint says, drawing away.

“For what?”

“For calling me back towards life,” Flint says, glancing over his shoulder before heading towards the door to the deck. “Rest Silver. I’ll make sure the men leave you be for a few hours.”

Silver hadn’t noticed how tired he was until Flint closes the door and he feels an ache settle in his bones. He’s not sure if it’s from hunger or want. The two feel much the same these days.

He turns and leans back to lie down on the bed,  _Flint’s bed_ , and closes his eyes. The gentle rocking of the ship is soothing here, unlike below deck where it feels like the water is trying to swallow them whole. Where the dark seeps into Silver’s skin and makes him dream of pale, dead hands grasping at him, begging for help.

He sleeps in the sunlight and dreams of two sharks circling each other, dancing figure eights in clear, warm water.

Doesn’t wake until nightfall, and opens his eyes to the soft, yellow light of a lantern, Flint reading quietly at his desk. Trying to stave off hunger and thirst with a good story no doubt.

“Read to me,” Silver says, blinking sleepily at Flint, who turns to look at him. Flint nods and opens his mouth, teeth glinting in the lamplight. A panther in the dark.

“ _No se abrazaron unos a otros, porque donde hay mucho amor no suele haber demasiada desenvoltura_ -”

Silver closes his eyes again, and lets the words soothe him back to sleep.


End file.
